“Meredith would have been a miracle, a monumental advancement in genetic science,” she announced, and it was true, but there was no ‘would have been’ about it: He simply was. TREADING WATER universe AU.

Disclaimer:
The Stargate Universe and characters do not belong to me, it/they
belong to other people who actually make money off of it. Pheww, I'm
glad we cleared that up. Now, I'll just be borrowing them for a
little while.

WARNING:
This story contains imagery of a deceased newborn child. It is not
violent or overly graphic, but it is there. You have been warned.

Author
Notes: You do not need to read the Treading Water
stories/universe that I have created to read this story. It can be
read as a complete stand alone. However, this story is an Alternate
Universe (AU) to my Treading Water series (which would make it
an AU to an AU :P ), which means that it will have a few certain
recurring themes and you may enjoy it more if you have read the
series.

A question
was asked in a review (and in a PM which I accidently deleted before
replying to and feel awful about) in regards to the Treading Water
Series, and it went like this: What would have happened if Rodney
had had a water birth instead of being born in the air (like most of
us are).

I
apologize for not remembering your names, but this is my response and
I hope you enjoy it :)

And as
always, a big thanks goes out to Laryn for being my wonderful beta!

Rating:
PG13

Summary:
"Meredith would have been a miracle, a monumental advancement in
genetic science," she announced, and it was true, but there was no
'would have been' about it: He simply was. TREADING WATER
universe AU.

Genre:
Sci-Fi, drama, tragedy, angst.

Sea Lord

(AU of TREADING WATER Series)

"Okay,
easy now. Just lay back slowly," the nurse instructed, hand
pressing gently into the woman's shoulder to help her lean back.
The woman resisted, blue eyes piercing as she reached out and gripped
the tubs edges, holding herself rigid and refusing to budge. Her
breathing was heavy, forced into a deep rhythm as she sucked air in
through her nose and exhaled forcefully through her lips.

"Mary,
you need to lay back," the nurse insisted gently, hand still firmly
gripping her shoulder, pushing again. Mary shifted, one hand
splashing down into the warm water, trying to find purchase on the
bottom of the tub she lay in. It became tangled in the hospital gown
that she still wore, floating around in the water, and she jerked it
back above the surface and then grabbed at it around her neck,
pulling.

"Get
this thing off me!" She snarled, and then groaned and squirmed,
spilling the tubs contents over the side, splashing the nurse.

"All
right Mary, we're taking it off," the nurse nodded and a new set
of gloved hands entered the mix, untying the knots and pulling the
soaked material away, leaving a wet trail on the tiled floor as it
was disposed of across the room. Mary followed it with her eyes a
moment, sweat coating her face, before she finally let out a sigh and
leaned back as the nurse had instructed. The water came up to her
shoulders and she splashed out, gripping the tubs edges again. The
bright lights of the room left her with little dignity as she lay
there with people milling all about, and she couldn't have cared
less.

Her eyes
latched onto the two doctors that came in from one of the side rooms,
dressed from head to toe in hospital blues, special gloves traveling
all the way to their shoulders and masks resting over their mouths.
Another aid came in behind them, pushing a table with tools they may
or may not need. She glared at them, and when they looked back her
glare turned into worry.

"It's
too early," she huffed out, and leaned her head back to stare at
the ceiling, ignoring the nurse as they attached special wires to
monitor her vital signs. "A month too early. I should be in a
hospital," she ground out and glared at them. The lead doctor
looked back at her as the other set up just to his side.

"You
know the arrangements that were made Mary, and you know that we are
far more capable of handling this then the hospital," his voice was
gentle, his eyes kind as he waited for her to nod her agreement. She
continued to glare and he sighed. "You knew the risks," he
reminded her softly and she squeezed her eyes shut against the room,
taking more deep breaths before nodding. It was true, she knew the
risks. She had agreed to them from the very start. But this was her
child…

"Just…it's
too early," her breaths became unsteady as she panicked a little,
tears gathering in her eyes. "Save him," she pleaded. The
doctor held her gaze a moment longer, before kneeling into position
around the tub.

"We'll
do what we can," he tried to assure her, tried to sound hopeful.
He looked at the man beside him, meeting his brown eyes a moment
before they went to work.

It was
only an hour later when the child's head breached below the
surface, Mary crying out as she squeezed the nurses hand to the point
of almost breaking fine bones. She strained, water sloshing all
around, her sweat mingling with it. The doctors had their arms in
the water, hands helping where they could, gentle, coaxing. The
nurses monitored her vitals, one standing by with sterile towels in
his arms, waiting and ready.

Something
was wrong. She cried out.

"He's
half way out," the doctor calmly informed them.

"The
umbilical is wrapped around his neck," the other suddenly
announced, and there was a flurry of urgency all around.

"He'll
drown," Mary cried, gripping the tub, moving to get out. Two more
nurses grabbed her and held her in place.

"If you
move now you'll only cause more damage," one firmly informed her
as she pressed on her shoulders. Mary tried to strain against them,
but she just didn't have the strength. It was taking too long.
Tears streamed down her face as the doctors worked frantically to try
and free her child.

It took
too long. Then, all at once, the pain slipped out of her, and she
watched with dull eyes as they finally pulled the newborn from the
water. She wasn't given a chance to see even a part of him before
the two doctors and the awaiting nurse with the towels sped off into
another room.

"He
wasn't crying," she looked at the nurse that remained by her side
as the other moved to help finish the birthing process. Mary felt
numb, hollow, exhausted. "He should have been crying," she
insisted, but there was nothing the nurse could say to that.

They had
all known the risks.

It was
another hour before the Doctor with the kind eyes had come back out
from the back room to find Mary lying rigidly in a hospital bed,
dressed in a fresh medical gown and swathed in starched white
blankets. Her face was still red, her cheeks blotchy and eyes dull.
An air of resignation sat heavily about her. The nurse that had been
with her the entire time stood and moved to the other side of the
room, pretending to busy herself with something as the Doctor
approached.

He didn't
have a chance to say anything.

"He
didn't survive," Mary said flatly, meeting his gaze and he
nodded. She looked away.

"We knew
it was a high possibility. You were the only one to carry a child
this far to term" he started and she glared back at him.

"I know
that!" She snapped, anger mingling with sorrow. She rubbed at her
eyes. "It doesn't make it any better."

"No, it
doesn't. I am sorry, we did everything we could." There was a
moments silence as Mary collected herself and squared her shoulders.

"Was
there any…did he show signs of advancement? Anything to indicate
that the changes we made to his genetic structure took place?" She
forced out, the scientist in her needing to know even as the mother
in her mourned. "Anything significant?" Anything that would
have made this disaster of an experiment worth while?

The Doctor
shook his head. "Nothing immediately apparent to the eye. We'll
have to perform a thorough autopsy to be certain."

"I want
to see him," She announced and he looked at her carefully a moment
before nodding. He was halfway across the room, heading back to the
room her child was lying, no doubt still and cold, when she changed
her mind. "Wait!" He stopped and turned around at her desperate
call. "I…don't bring him. I don't want to see him. It's
not necessary," she looked away, eyes once again brimming with
tears and she blinked them back. The Doctor nodded his
understanding.

"Your
husband has been informed that you went into premature labour. We've
sent a private jet to pick him up out of Pierson Airport. We're
going to have to keep you here a few more hours and then we'll
bring you home. He should be there by the time you're ready to
leave." She took a deep breath and nodded.

"Thank
you."

"I am
sorry for your loss," he said softly, his sorrow clear.

"Yes, so
am I. Meredith would have been a miracle, a monumental advancement
in genetic science," she announced, voice going hard, the scientist
emerging fully again until she could escape to mourn in privacy. The
Doctor nodded and turned once again to leave, closing the door to the
water birthing room behind him. He shed his medical gown, taking the
crisp white science coat that was immediately handed to him before
heading down a short hallway and into another room.

"How did
she take it?" Harrison, the doctor that had helped him with the
delivery asked, not bothering to look up from the chart he was
examining. The lights were bright in this room and several people
were busily working, lab coats flapping behind them or hanging limply
as they remained still, absorbed in their work.

"Like a
grieving mother and scientist," he offered, and looked at the table
behind him. "She chose not to see him," he informed the woman
standing by the table. "But we should keep him on hand a while
longer, in case she changes her mind." She nodded, gently wrapping
a sterile blanket back around the cold, still body of the stillborn
that lay before her. It was absurdly tiny, little hands clenched
into fists, eyes never opened. "Once she's gone have Richards
return the infant to the hospital," he ordered and then turned away
from the sad sight.

He paused,
and stared, and after a few more moments without speaking Harrison
looked over at him, and then grinned.

"Incredible
isn't he," he announced and then followed Bueller's gaze to the
specially designed, non-stagnating water incubator. It had been a
bit of a scramble to get it together when Mary had gone into
premature labour, but it was working flawlessly now.

"Absolutely,"
Bueller agreed. "How's he taking to the feeding tube?"

"Doesn't
seem to be a problem," Harrison looked back at his notes. "Heart
rate is slightly elevated, but that's not unexpected considering
he's a month early. We're keeping an eye on it, and I suspect
once we figure out the appropriate O2 saturation in the water it'll
even out just fine. If he remains stable for the next week I think
we'll be okay to move him to the Pheonix site."

Bueller
nodded. He was tired of Vancouver and more then ready to head back
to their main site of operations. The only downside being that he'd
grown fond of Tim Horton's and sadly enough he didn't think the
franchise had moved that far into the States yet.

Inside the
tank the tiny newborn waved his arms around. It was easy to see its
pinched face through the glass, eyes screwed up in distress from
where he lay on the specialized gel-bed, head and neck supported,
mouth wide and sucking in water.

"Listen
to this," Harrison ordered and then leaned over to flip a switch,
tiny speakers sitting beside the tanks suddenly let out a weak,
crackling sound that stopped and started in an immeasurable rhythm.
Several people around the room looked over immediately, two women
taking a step instinctively towards the tank before stopping and
turning pointedly back to their work. Bueller's eyes widened.

"He's
crying," he announced, unnecessarily, and huffed out a laugh.
"Incredible." They had known the child had developed gills as
soon as his respiratory systems began to develop, but they hadn't
been certain whether it would be capable of speech or not. It looked
like communication wouldn't be too much of a problem.

"Yes,
and the best part is," Harrison reached out and turned off the
speakers, "that we don't have to hear it." Bueller spared a
moment to feel sorry for the child, torn away from his mother to be
shoved into a tank, removed from any physical contact or comfort.
Unfortunately at the moment they were more concerned with monitoring
and stabilizing the child, but he made a note to give people
permission later to try and comfort the boy.

"She
named him Meredith," he announced and Harrison looked over at him,
raising an eyebrow even as he reached for the roll of masking tape
that sat on the table beside him. Bueller smirked. "She was fond
of stating that she'd been hoping for a girl."

"Kind of
appropriate though," Harrison looked back at the tank, focusing his
gaze on the tiny, delicate gill slits adorning the child's sides.

"Why's
that?"

"It's
Welsh, stands for 'sea lord'" he explained and at Bueller's
look he shrugged. "My wife was thinking of calling our girl
Meredith for a while, I'm glad she decided against it now." He
ripped a strip of tape off and stuck it to the very bottom of the
incubators glass wall. Bold black letters standing out.

"Meredith
McKay," Bueller read out loud. He stared a moment longer as
Harrison went back to work, watching little arms swathed in thin,
water proof wires wave unhappily through the clear liquid. "Welcome
to your life."

End.

oooOOOOooo

Well, I
hope that was enjoyable, or at least intriguing? As I said above, I
do want to expand on this fic, but I'm heading off to Europe for a
few months of backpacking so it'll be a while before you see
anything more from me. Until then I wish you all the best.

Cheers.

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.